


Drifting, Ghost-Like

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Fluff, Ghost!Jim, Ghosts, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Season/Series 03, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I may not be alive, Sebastian, but that doesn't mean I'm dead."





	1. Not Dead In The Traditional Sense

A month after Jim shot himself on the roof, Sebastian found himself feeling horrific. He'd killed countless people before. Death had never bothered him before. It was always impersonal before. But, he supposed, he'd been in control every time before. He'd pulled the trigger, he'd know when it would be done, he'd expected it, he'd not known who was in the receiving end. He'd not had that terrible binding of sentiment with anyone he'd seen die. Jim was different.

Sebastian had been there, with his gun, aimed and ready for a signal. Just like every time before. He'd been told who he might have to kill, he'd been told how to know when, he'd been told the details. Just like every time before. But this time, this time there was a detail missing. The detail that would leave Sebastian cursing why the hell he hadn't noticed the Beretta under the neatly tailored suit. The detail that would leave Sebastian wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. The detail that would leave Sebastian. Alone.

There was nothing to be done now. It had been a month of Sebastian keeping himself as busy as possible, dismantling his guns and putting them back together so he had something to do with his hands that wasn't turning the handle to Jim’s room, turning the TV as loud as possible so he had something to be louder than what was happening in his head, being as careless as he could with his cooking so he had something to hurt as much as the ache in his chest.

He felt empty, missing a key part of himself, lost without it, terribly weightless. He felt empty.

But at the same time he felt so full, crammed with thoughts that wouldn't let him sleep, stuffed with guilt, awfully heavy. He felt so full.

Jim's empire was still miraculously standing a month on, because Sebastian was controlling it. Forcing his brain to work how Jim's did put a strain on him that was pleasantly different to the one he felt when his thoughts were free. Though Sebastian didn't really know what he was doing with himself. A month on, Sebastian was feeling more full of emptiness every day.

Laid in his bed one night, knowing he wasn't going to sleep until he passed out in exhaustion, Sebastian prayed to anything that he could be with Jim again, or just see him there, or even just hear his voice.

_“Hello Sebastian.”_

The blond man stiffened, squeezing his eyes shut. It was one thing to be kept up at night by memories, but it was another to start hallucinating them.

_“I'm talking to you, Sebby. Don't be rude.”_ The sickeningly familiar Irish voice spoke again.

Curling up tighter, Sebastian gritted his teeth.

“You're not real. You're not real. I saw you die.”

_“That doesn't mean I'm not real though, does it Sebby?”_

Sebastian finally opened his eyes. And screamed out in horror.

_“And here I was, thinking you'd be happy to see me. I’m so **wounded,** ‘Bastian.” _

The sniper gawped, ice running down his spine. He rubbed his eyes and stared again, taking it all in.

Shiny black shoes that were probably worth more than most people’s pension, Westwood suit tailored perfectly to his slim frame, pale skin with a faint ethereal glow to it, lips in the smirk he knew so well, hair still impeccably done, eyebrows high and arched, and eyes darker than the night sky, piercing into Sebastian's heart.

_“Yes, Sebastian, it is really me. Now we have that sorted, get out of bed, I need to fix the stupid decisions you've made for my empire.”_

Jim walked away to the door, and that was when he noticed that Jim wasn't touching the floor. He was walking a few inches above the ground, shoes connecting with nothing but air with each step.

“Jim?”

_“If this isn't a long apology that will make me reconsider punishing you, I'm really not interested, Sebby.”_

Sebastian was quiet for a second, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

“You're floating, Jim.”

_“Yes, and I'm back here in front of you and trying to get you to obey what I'm saying even though I blew my brains out. You focus on the insignificant details, Sebastian. I see it as more unusual that I came in through a closed, bolted door and am walking around with a good portion of my skull missing, but none of that matters because, now, I need you to come with me. You should see the havoc you've wreaked on my hard work.”_

Sebastian finally stood on shaky legs and made a strangled noise as he watched Jim turn, walk to the door and melt through it as if it wasn't there at all. Jim had clearly heard his shock, and stuck only his head through the door to glower at the sniper. The sight of his head just floating there didn't really help. Still, Sebastian supposed he was still employed by Jim, even if he was a ghost on a different plane of existence to Sebastian, and he had to follow anyway.

Walking through to Jim’s study – exactly the same as it was the last time Jim had been in there – Sebastian took in the sight of Jim, sitting a few inches above the chair like a game’s rendering error, trying to open the lid of his laptop. Jim was grumbling in frustration as his fingers kept passing through the laptop.

“Need some help, Boss?” Sebastian asked finally, growing tired now.

_“No! I'm fine,”_ Jim said, agitated. _“I just need to be slower…”_ Very gently, Jim placed his fingers at the lid and steadily pushed up, breathing a sigh of relief as the laptop eventually complied and let him open it. _“See, Sebastian? You're still dispensable when I'm a mere spirit.”_

“Good to know.”

_“Don’t deadpan, Sebastian.”_ Then Jim let out a short laugh. _**“Dead** pan, Sebastian. Honestly, I didn't even plan that!”_

“I thought you needed to urgently fix the horrible, terrible mess I’ve made of your work as soon as you possibly could because it's in peril.”

_“Since when did you tell me what I have to do? I may not be alive, Sebastian, but that doesn't mean I'm dead. I can still hurt you.”_

Sebastian furrowed his brow.

_“And don't use such long sentences if you don't know how clauses work, Sebby. It sounds… messy.”_ Jim told him, taking great care in tapping his keyboard as he entered each password to and opened up every document on the laptop, even those Sebastian could never guess the code for. Scanning for any error, Sebastian knew when he'd found documentation of things Sebastian had done because Jim would tut and make notes (probably detailing how to fix it, or how to kill Sebastian based on the severity of the mistake) underneath it. Jim was taking a long time reading through everything, though that was probably due to the incredible about of care and effort he had to put into his movements to actually touch the keys and not just haze through the keyboard. The silence and boredom became so tangible for Sebastian that he just had to ask.

“How bad is it, Boss?”

Jim made a ‘hm’ noise and didn't turn his head from the screen.

_“There are several men who you should have killed that you didn't, letting them cause chaos for me, you haven't spoken to any of my staff while I was gone, so they've ran amok on their own, and you've essentially ruined my profits and bank account.”_ Jim said, in an eerily calm voice.

“But… it could be worse, couldn't it?”

_“Yes, of course. I mean,” Jim laughed at the preposterous idea, “after all, Sherlock could be alive!”_

Even Sebastian had to laugh at that. “Yes, I suppose that wasn't ruined for you. Unlike your targets, and your staff, and your money…”

_“That much is true, but what use is money to a dead man?”_ Jim pondered.

“I thought you said you weren't dead?”

_“Not in the traditional sense, I suppose. I'm still walking, I'm still speaking, and I still find you infuriating,”_ He admitted. _“But I still have a hole in my skull,”_ he turned round and showed off the sickening, bloody crater in his head to Sebastian, _“I don't breathe unless I'm sighing in exasperation at you, and I don't have a heartbeat.”_

“Did you ever have a heartbeat? Considering how you think you're heartless, and all.”

Jim thought it over.

_“Touché, Sebby. Very witty for you. Not really witty at all, but witty for you.”_

“Uh, thanks.” Sebastian's mind was elsewhere. “Why are you here?”

_“That's rather rude. Are you not happy to have me back, ‘Bastian?”_ Jim pouted.

“No, I am-”

_“Oh, you are? How sweet. I'm flattered, Sebby – were you all weepy while I was gone?”_

“No.” Sebastian gritted his teeth, only partially telling the truth. “Why are you back? You're dead,” at Jim's raised eyebrows, he added, “in the traditional sense. You shouldn't be…”

_“Here at all?”_ Jim finished his sentence. Sebastian nodded. _“Well, I suppose it's because someone up there thinks I've got unfinished business to deal with. I presume it's the awful mess you've made of everything I've worked for."_

"So…”

_"Essentially, I assume I'm only still here because you've made such a pig’s ear of my empire.”_

“Oh.”

_“Oh indeed. So, much as it pains me, you'll have to help me fix this mess before I ‘depart’ for good. Heaven knows I can't do this without your… help because there is no way I'll be able to unravel your decisions. What, with a mind like yours.”_

“Thanks?” Sebastian said tentatively.

“That wasn't a compliment, my dear.”

_“Oh.”_

Sebastian had missed Jim before. Now, he found that he couldn't wait for this to be over.


	2. Untouchable

_“Sebastian!”_

Within a fraction of a second, Sebastian shot up from bed. He grabbed the gun from underneath his pillow and had it loaded, ready to shoot. His alert grey eyes met amused dark ones in the dimness, and the gun went lax in his softening grip as he realised there was no danger.

_“Oh my, I **am** impressed! Your reaction time hasn't slowed in the slightest while I was gone. In fact, I'm certain it’s quickened!” _

“Oh,” Sebastian said, tossing his gun away now that he had no use for it. He lay his still mildly-panicked body back against the headboard. “That's good I guess.”

What Sebastian didn't tell Jim was that he'd become more alert at noises because he'd felt so deprived of him that every noise put him on edge – just in case it was finally him. What Sebastian didn't tell him was that he'd missed him so much that he'd hoped any noise was him.

Now, at what the lights on his clock proudly proclaimed was 2:46, Sebastian wondered how the hell he'd missed this annoyance.

_“Are you still not happy to be up when I am?”_

“Not really, no.”

_"Well, I'm up anyway, and it's customary for you to entertain me when I'm awake. I've found that it's impossible to sleep now, with my unconventional ‘living’ situation. You know what they say about rest and the wicked. Don't you, Sebastian?”_

“Yeah.”

_"How eloquently worded of you. Anyway, I'm bored. Come and entertain me on this sleepless journey through the night.”_ Jim melted away through the door again, leaving Sebastian to open the door and follow him to the living room.

“Did you ever sleep anyway? You know, before this thing?” Sebastian asked him, sitting down on the sofa next to Jim's chair. “Because I don't remember many nights when you didn't do the same thing. How do you know that it's the whole ‘dead’ thing making you not sleep, and not just you being you? It's only been a day, after all.”

_"Not exactly, Sebastian.”_ Jim hummed.

“What do you mean?”

_"I mean it's been more than a day since I shot myself.”_

Sebastian gawped.

“So you…”

_“Have been alive since a month ago? Yes.”_

Sebastian’s shock was evident on his face, and Jim laughed at it. That was what made the shock melt away. It fizzled very quickly and changed, churned Ito something else. Sebastian stood up, rage boiling inside him.

“I can't believe you! Are you that much of a sadist that you couldn't even come over to tell me that you were back? What the hell were you even doing?”

Jim’s eyes were wide in surprise. He hadn't expected this outburst.

_“Well-”_

“Don't answer that, I don't care! I just can't believe you could be so twisted that you couldn't even mention that you were back. I thought you were gone for good, and don't ask me why, but I bloody missed you!”

_“Aww, Sebby…”_ Jim purred mockingly.

“Don't even start! I've had _enough_ of you!” On the word ‘enough’, Sebastian roughly grabbed one of Jim’s crystal vases and threw it with force directly at the Irishman. He was fuelled by rage and didn't care that it would just pass through the ghostly man.

Jim himself, however, had obviously forgotten this.

With a high-pitched yelp of fear, the most dangerous criminal mastermind ducked and fell to the floor, arms protecting his head and body tensed to brace himself. Sebastian couldn't help but laugh at what he'd managed to reduce him to.

“I bet you thought you were the cleverest man in the world, didn't you?” Sebastian watched as Jim rose from his protective pose and stand up. His stance lacked the grandeur it usually exuded. Sebastian smirked. He'd made Jim weak. “I bet you thought you could come back, all experienced in your new bloody form, thinking you could be that same. I bet you thought you knew what you were doing. But let me tell you this,” he took a stride towards Jim, who flinched despite knowing he couldn't be hurt, “you know _nothing_. You have no more power than a TV screen. You can't do anything unless you go at it at a snail’s pace. You can't touch anything. You can't touch me.”

And he was still in only a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. And he had no idea where he was going. And he didn't know what he was doing. But – as he turned on his heel, sweeping up his boots in one hand, Sebastian Moran knew that he was getting away from the mess that was Jim Moriarty.

And he didn't think he'd ever want to go back.


	3. Intruder

He'd bought a flat. A tiny, grotty little thing that he shouldn't have chosen. Given the money Jim had paid him for jobs, he could have easily bought a luxury apartment with ease. It could have been fitted with state-of-the-art appliances, great expensive furniture and anything Sebastian wanted. But what he really wanted was to forget Jim. He wanted to forget his sadism, and his money, and the ache in his chest that came from another separation. He wanted to be away from any memory of him.

And that was why his flat was smaller than what his bedroom had been, and his kitchen table had a broken leg, and his plumbing had been acting up over the past few weeks, and his mattress was as thin as paper, and his carpets were stained and he kept all the lights off. Jim used leave every light no matter how late it was. Jim didn't even sleep for days and days on end, even before he shot himself.

Ironically, Sebastian found that, no matter how many towels he packed under his pillow to make it thicker, no matter how much jogging he did that day to tire him out and no matter how many lights were off, he couldn't sleep even without Jim’s carelessness. Something was itching at the back of his mind. Something was distracting him. Something was… off.

Sebastian knew that he hadn't seen Jim or any of his other staff had followed him to his new flat to find out where he lived. He always took different, winding routes every time he walked to the flat after his morning jog, and he never saw anyone following him. He knew he was alone.

But his fridge was always full, even though he hadn't been shopping since he moved in. And his clothes were always cleaned, even though Sebastian didn't even know where the nearest launderers were. And he always heard things being moved around when he was awake at night.

But as soon as he left his room to investigate, there was nothing there.

Was he going mad for real this time?

It was 1:26 in the morning, and Sebastian had been woken up by a sound that definitely came from someone moving things at his bedside table. He lay as still as possible, keeping his breathing even as he reached his arm up to the loaded pistol he could feel under his pillow. He listened for another sound, but heard nothing for a good five minutes. Then, a rustling at the end of his bed. Sebastian still didn't move, trying to figure out what the intruder was doing with what he knew was just the pile of his dirty clothes on the floor. There was no more sound for a few minutes, and Sebastian dared to sit up and look around, gun in his hand.

The room was empty, though he hadn't heard the door open for the intruder to leave. The word ‘schizophrenic’ passed through his head mockingly, but Sebastian soon saw that his lamp and clock had been straightened and his clothes had been taken from the end of his bed. This was real.

But, Sebastian thought to himself, what kind of burglar arranges your furniture and then steals your dirty clothes?

He heard his fridge door open in the kitchen, and he snapped his eyes to the sliver of light coming through the space under his door. There was no way in hell that he was seeing things. He never left the lights on. Another layer of confidence in his own instincts was added, and he readied himself to get up and shoot whoever was in his house.

The light from the kitchen switched off again, and Sebastian knew the imposter would come into his room again. He debated whether he should kill them the moment they came through the door, or whether to feign sleep and truly catch them unawares. He excitedly decided upon the latter, please that he'd returned to the crueler person he'd been before… 

He quickly settled back into the covers, one arm under under his pillow the same way it was before, breathing in the heavy way people always do when they sleep. He waited to hear to door open, creaking in its hinges the way it always did no matter how he tried to oil it.

The sheets moved around his still body, and it took a lot in Sebastian to not tense and give it away that he was awake. He hadn't even heard them come in, and now they were so close they could touch him. His grip around the pistol tightened. He was so ready to kill this creepy bastard.

He felt a hand running gently through his hair, and he thought, “pervert”. He gritted his teeth and waited for his instincts to tell him when to shoot. The hand was taken away, then dragged down to cup his cheek. This creep was touching him while they thought he was asleep! He waited a little longer.

 _“Dia duit, mo ghrá.”_ A voice spoke, ethereal and lilted.

Sebastian sprung up from under the sheets and started firing and reloading, firing and reloading like a madman. He didn't know where the imposter had been but, if he kept going, he would hit them for sure.

Soon enough, his clip was empty and there was no one to be seen in his room. They must've fallen down after being shot. Sebastian looked over the side of his bed.

To find plain, bare floorboards.

Where was the intruder?

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and watched in horror as the clock he’d moved whilst shooting was repositioned by itself. He couldn't move for a moment. His furniture was moving on its own.

Or, after a moment of thought, _not_ on its own. But, rather, by an _invisible force._

“Jim, for God’s sake!” Sebastian called out. “You know I never want to see you again, get the hell out of my house!”

No answer.

“And stop being invisible, you prick!”

Slowly, a dark shape fizzled into the air beside Sebastian's bed, forming into the shape of Jim, his suit and all.

 _“Aw, I thought you'd missed me before.”_ Jim tried to mock, but his voice had lost the bite it usually held.

“It wasn't _me_ who was stroking _your_ face though, was it?”

And it may have been dark, and he may have been a semi-transparent spirit, but Sebastian could have sworn he saw Jim blush a little.

"I think you missed me a lot more than I missed you, is that right?” Sebastian grinned smugly, knowing he had the upper hand.

 _“That's preposterous!”_ Jim insisted, though his voice was weak.

“It's funny, isn't it, how you left me for a month and mocked me, but when I leave for a month and you break into my house to restock my fridge, it's ‘preposterous’ to say that you've missed me?” Sebastian laughed. “You've spent your whole life laughing at sentiment, but you still make sure I have food and clean clothes, and you whisper gibberish things to me while I sleep. I think you're the victim of sentiment this time, Jim.”

Jim was silent for a while, his mouth in a tight line.

 _"You were sentimental too, Sebby!”_ He retorted. _“You missed me so much you wouldn't go into my room because it hurt! **You** were sentimental!” _

“I never said that I wasn't, Jim.”

Silence settled over the two of them. Jim's eyes widened in the dark. Sebastian's mood softened.

“But there was nothing I could do about it then. You were gone. But I'm still here. There's something _you_ can do about it now.”

Jim lowered himself to sit a little way above the mattress. His black eyes were full of something misty that Sebastian couldn't name. He opened his mouth to speak and Sebastian willed him to _just say it._

But he closed his mouth again, thinking better than to say such things when he was the most infamous criminal mastermind. And he stood up, not meeting Sebastian's eyes, and drifted away out the door.

Sebastian did nothing but watch him go, standing up half an hour after he left. He packed all his things up again. He knew the route to the house like the back of his hand.

He waited outside the door for the better part of an hour, and decided it was now or never.

He put his hand on the doorknob and twisted.

It was unlocked. Unlocked for him.

He took a breath, deep and uncertain.

He walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dia duit, mo gráh. - Irish Gaelic for "Hello, my love."


	4. Home Again

Jim's face. Upside down. What a sight to see when you first walk through the door at stupid o’clock in the morning. He was stood on the ceiling. Or, rather, a few inches below the ceiling. Gravity didn't seem to be having an effect on him. His hair hadn't moved a millimetre. His suit was still straight. He looked Sebastian directly in the eyes, and Sebastian found that he couldn't look away.

_“Do you want to know the real reason why I'm still here?”_

Sebastian looked into the pools of blackness and saw something stirring the waters there.

“Go for it.”

_“I was lying when I said I was only here to fix what you'd done.”_

“That wasn't really the thing keeping me up at night, but thanks for the honesty.”

Sebastian walked through Jim’s upside-down body to walk up the stairs to his room, deciding he had been pretty much welcomed back with open arms.

_“Sebastian, stop!”_

So Sebastian stopped.

Jim walked backwards through him to meet his eyes again, still stood on the ceiling.

_“I wasn't finished, ‘Bastian.”_

“Jim, honestly, I'm tired. I'm glad that we're all chummy and all, but can't it wait until the morning?”

_“I won't want to talk about it in the morning. It'll be passed in the morning. We have to talk now.”_

Jim had a look in his eyes that persuaded him without the threat it usually held.

“Alright.”

Jim took himself down from the ceiling, standing the right way up in front of Sebastian now.

“In your flat before, you told me that I could do something about it. How did you know?”

Sebastian could have asked him ‘how did I know what’, but it wasn't ambiguous.

“I didn't _know_. I just hoped.”

Jim’s body quivered, disappearing for just a second.

_“Do you think that you're correct?”_ He asked him. Sebastian shrugged.

“You asked me how I _knew_ , so I think I'm probably right. But I don't know, you've never seemed to be like this before, so maybe it's a test. I'm not gonna say that I'm definitely right; I'm a little scared of what you'll do to me if this is a test.”

_“You told me that I wasnt able to touch you.”_

“I thought you couldn't, but I didn't know then that you could turn invisible of walk on the ceiling, so I'm really not holding onto old ideas anymore.”

_“I'm not going to hurt you, Sebastian.”_

Sebastian couldn't explain how odd it felt to hear the words craziest sadist tell him that he wouldn't hurt him.

“Jim,” Sebastian sighed, “why don't you just tell me yourself? You said you would tell me.”

_“I did, though I'm finding it harder than I'd expected.”_

“Jim.”

_“Oh, **fine!** I know that I'm not here because of your mistakes.” _

“You've said that already.”

_“Shut up, I'm talking.”_

Sebastian raised his hands in surrender, and Jim continued on.

_“Anyway, I'm here because of you.”_

Something jumped in Sebastian's chest.

“Go on…”

_“Sebastian you know what I'm trying to say! Why must you make it so difficult?”_

“Because you always make it seem like you're gonna do one thing, then you do something completely different. I'm not gonna risk guessing, Jim.”

Jim huffed and rolled his eyes.

_“I can't **do** it, Sebastian!” _

“I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that.”

_“Sebastian, I will very swiftly change my mind about talking about this if you continue to be an insufferable brat.”_

“Right. Sorry.”

Jim sighed heavily, his eyelids fluttering as he thought of the words to say.

_“Sebastian, I would have killed you a long time ago.”_

“Thanks.”

Jim stared daggers at him, and Sebastian remembered that he was supposed to stop being a ‘brat’.

_“And I **may kill you now, Sebastian** , but the only thing that stopped me before was how much you help me.”_

Sebastian found himself wanting to say ‘but what about how much I ruin your plans?’, but he stopped himself. He just nodded his head to show that he was still listening.

_“Though you annoy me to no end, things feel different when you're here. Everything goes… slower. Calmer. Better. I can do things easier when you're here. The world doesn't spin as dizzyingly when you're here.”_ Jim looked down, and Sebastian worried that his heart would hammer though his chest. _“So, I suppose I'm still here because I needed to set the record straight.”_

“But you've done that now. And you're not being whisked up to heaven yet. Or down to hell.”

_“That's true. Maybe that's a good thing though.”_

Jim looked at him with the most adoration Sebastian had ever seen from him. He felt the heat rising in his face.

“And why’s that?” Sebastian prompted.

Jim reached out a ghostly hand and slowly pressed it to Sebastian's face, visibly relaxing when he touched his skin.

_“Because you're here.”_

Then Jim marched off to watch something on TV. Sebastian sat down on the stairs for a while. He definitely wasn’t going to sleep that night. His heart was beating so hard that Sebastian was certain that it had started trying to kick though his chest. Jim had just said the closest thing to a declaration of love that he would ever say. Sebastian was the reason why Jim was still here. Jim was still here because he wanted to stay with him.

Sebastian stood up from the stairs. He walked through to the living room, daring to sit close to Jim on the sofa. Both were silent for a while, the soundtrack to the film that neither of them were really watching being the only noise.

Sebastian looked over to Jim.

“I love you too, you know.”

Jim smiled slightly and relaxed into the couch, moving a little closer to Sebastian.

_“I know.”_

A tanned solid hand and a pale ghostly one reached out for each other, fingers steadily managing to intertwine. Heaven could wait for Jim. For now, this was heaven.

And he wasn't leaving it.

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter won't be posted until at least the 12th of August because I'll be away until then, sorry!


End file.
